Author's note:
Well, this was incredibly fun to write. Forgive my many grammatical mistakes in advance, but I hope you get a good laugh at it.
~Kalafinn
Owen Felford rode through the slums of Velder on a mule's back. His hair was messy, his clothes too plain and muddy to raise any suspicion and he was barely knowledgeable enough with magic to modify the colour of his gaze to a bright blue. He hated the stench of this part of the town, but he knew exactly why he was here. There was no other choice if that man refused to meet anywhere else. Owen looked up to the night sky, noticing that the moon was full. He rolled his eyes with a sigh.
'Now I have to get all the way to Rowan. Fantastic!' he mentally complained as he pressed on as fast as his mount wanted to go. Which was not as fast as a stallion. But a horse would have completely messed up his disguise. He saw the gates out of Velder's slums in the distance. The guards, as usual, were talking among themselves and even sharing drinks with the locals. It was, once again, the perfect time to sneak out. He hated their slack and easygoingness, but he was not his superior today. He was just the same travelling cabbage merchant who closed shop and went back to the fields. The rattle of his empty carriage merely distracted the guards for a second from their useless banter with a polite nod to him. It was just another day before one of the drunkards stumbled and barely stopped himself from falling by holding onto the empty wooden cart. The mule stopped and Owen glared at the drunk guard.
He was young, clearly still a teenager, and he was falling already down the wrong path. On top of that, the young miscreant dared to smile stupidly at him, "Ya have a good trip home, cabbage dude."
"Sure will," Owen muttered, looking away from the disgraceful young man who had the gall to wear the same uniform as he had done years ago.
The nobleman in disguise welcomed the night outside of the city's walls with both relief and apprehension. Relief because it brought a cool breeze of lavender and other wildflowers to wash away the filth of the slums, but apprehension because the man he was going to meet and the place that man was going to choose tonight.
'It's not like I have any choice, but still,' he tried to reason with himself as he continued slowly his path towards Rowan.
Owen had no business per se in the town itself, nor did he want to be seen by any of the men stationed there. His disguise was enough to fool drunkards, but he knew the men who guarded Rowan. And they knew him as well. Appearances would never fool knights worthy of such title.
The ride to Rowan on horseback would have been half an hour, but even if the mule was not supposed to be slower than most cheap horses, mules only went as fast as they wanted to go. Thus, it took Owen a little over an hour before reaching the old dirt path that lead to a facade. He had assumed, long ago, that this path simply crossed through the forests near Rowan and led a roundabout to Feita's underground garden.
But the man who truly lived in that forest was a very fearful mage. The forest itself was a mirage for unwanted visitors to hide the old ruins of a village. Owen felt the spells he had put on himself vanish as a chilly breeze swept dead leaves around him.
The dangerous, foreign man was letting him into his abode, not as a cabbage merchant, but as the highest military authority in Velder...if said authority dressed like a beggar.
Despite the strange visits he had been paying to this uncharted part of the forest, Owen still found it in himself to bring a bit of the gel he used to straighten his hair and comb as a man befitting of his position. The dirt on his face and hands had gone with his blue eyes and, after leaving the mule safely attached to a tree, Owen Felford walked through the frankly unsafe, ancient stone-paved street where each stone moved unnaturally. The place seemed to try to make him fall over at each step, but Owen was already too familiar with this path to ever lose his footing.
The house he was headed to was an abandoned temple of sorts, where vines crawled up to the windows and roof, bending the Cross of the El, yet holding it firmly from falling into the ground. Owen stood in the front door and, in the blink of an eye, the heavy, rusty doors of the temple opened to humid darkness where a single chandelier hung from the roof over the altar.
A most peculiar figure stood beneath it. White, silky hair reached the dusty stone floor. Two black horns grew over the sorcerer's pointy ears, and a broken crown of white mana crystals towered the man's head like a halo of some dark saint. A pair of crystal wings hovered over his back, shining with a shade of blue that no flame nor magic on Elrios could fully replicate.
That strange sorcerer called himself Barkat Soulscream.
"It is a shame you must see me in this disgraceful form, Owen Felford," the sorcerer began.
He turned around, revealing his strangely hypnotizing eyes and fox-like grin. His left eye was the same shade of blue as his wings, with a black pupil shaped in a four-pointed star. The other eye, however, was a brighter blue, pure as a summer sky without clouds and the pupil was simply the shade of the iris of his other eye. The sorcerer's attire was worthy of a noble of times long gone. If Owen had to describe the impression the man's appearance inspired in him, it would be certainly one of awe and dread.
Yet, Owen had learnt a little to well to hide his every emotion, especially in front of someone as peculiar as the sorcerer. With a scoff, he shrugged, "Well, at least you look the part now, sorcerer."
The demon king sighed, shaking his head, "I sometimes wonder if...coming to your world is even worth it if that is the extent of your reaction to my royal presence."
"Sorry to disappoint. By the way, I'm the El Lady. Pleased to meet you again."
The demon king chuckled, "Oh, you are the only man I know who would jest about such things. It's...refreshing."
Owen looked around the few seats spared by time and walked towards the altar, sitting on the stone edge of the first row. Barkat soon joined him, using his crystal wings to levitate as the gods in the painted glass had done before, when the villagers still prayed here.
"Let me ascertain one thing, Felford. You do not even consider the possibility that I am a demon, correct?"
Owen looked up at the sorcerer, and he felt his hardened resolve waver for a moment as he stared into those odd eyes. But he was born into the Felford family, and he would bear its honour to the death, be it in front of the sorcerer or the King. It was the only honour he had left.
"That is true," Owen replied, expressionless.
"And yet," Barkat smiled playfully, "you come here to betray your nation. Why is that your trust in my promise outweighs my claims about my nature? If that alone seeds doubt in your heart, you would think I am but a deceiving serpent that would not-"
"I trust your promise because I know who you truly are."
Barkat's smile died out, his eyebrows furrowed, "And what might you know about me?"
"That, if you say to be a demon king, your very nature would shatter your entire empire. More importantly, you should be glad that I respect the secrecy of your real name, Ebalon the Traitor."
Barkat's eyes widened for a moment, but his grin soon returned. Then, his thunderous chuckle flooded the church, echoing loudly across the shambling ruins.
"Oh, is that the best you can do to threaten me?" the demon king stared down at the puny, stoic human, "I care very little about my empire, or if you know my true name. But you, on the other side, have everything to lose if rumours start appearing in Velder's court ahead of schedule. You're on a tightrope after the civil war, aren't you?"
Owen frowned, giving just enough for the odd-eyed sorcerer to fully grasp the control of the conversation, "We both know you never did anything wrong, Owen. That is why I'm helping you. We're allies."
The white-haired knight huffed, "Oh my, how selfless of you. I sure like my allies to casually threaten me."
"To be fair, I learnt that from you."
The white-haired knight took a deep breath, "You want me to show you the map or are we going to diss each other until the sun rises?"
"You also diss your allies?! Owen Felford, I envy your legendary charisma! Show me the maps, and I can come up with a diss worthy of-"
"No, thank you. Uhh...should I call you by your real name now?"
"Nope. Even Ebalon is risqué. Barkat will do."
"Alright, uhh, Barkat," Owen searched the hidden pocket in his dirty cloak and took out a golden ring decorated with a red sapphire. A rune circle was carefully engraved with mana trapped deep within the jewel.
"It'd be nice if you dropped that hesitation, Owen."
"I'm just shocked that you laughed off the fact that I know something you've kept hidden for a long time," Owen bit his thumb until blood dripped from it. He put his bleeding thumb over the ring, channelling his mana forth for the first time in many reincarnations.
Barkat smirked, "You seriously thought I gave a damn if someone like you figured it out? I'd be more worried if you didn't figure anything out after all this time."
The demon king whistled at the powerful blood magic conjured from Owen's only true possession. A red light invaded the room rapidly, mana crystals spiralled in a tornado, swaying the dead leaves into dust, then into nothing. The crystals began to hone into shapes of buildings and streets, perfectly replicating the Great Cathedral and the complex labyrinth of tunnels and guard posts that protected the Earth El underneath.
"Hey, Owen. How many rewinds did it take you to get something this precise?"
The albino frowned, "Too many for my taste. But invading Velder with this information will only lead to your demise, Barkat."
The odd-eyed sorcerer raised an eyebrow, "Have we had this conversation before?"
"It's possible."
Barkat sighed, slowly descending into the ground level, facing Owen eye to eye, "I see. Well, tell me, how would I succeed?"
Owen looked to the side, "There's one thing we haven't tried. But I...don't think you'd take me seriously if I told you."
The demon king frowned, "You think that I, Barkat Soulscream, would not take the advice of an ally as valuable as you?! State your plan or perish, Owen Felford!"
A cold wave of blue flames swept around Barkat, summoning a full plate armour made black steel. The helmet had the shape of a monstrous hound and it would have been menacing until one noticed it had no gauntlets and the chest plate was a bit too curvy for a man. In the blink of an eye, Owen found his neck only a hair away from the edge of a flame-covered greatsword.
Owen looked stoically at the weapon before staring blankly at Barkat, "You think that's going to scare me? The Beastslayer has beheaded me more times than I'd like to remember. If you make Velder a warzone, the boy who restores the El will rally your closest family to crush your plans completely. It's inevitable."
Barkat smirked, "Now that is a good threat, Owen," he withdrew the sword and crossed his arms, raising himself in the air again, "And that's more reason to hear you out. Go ahead, I want to hear whatever crazy plan you came up with."
Velder's great general glared at the demon above him, "Alright. But I have to make sure nobody else can hear."
"That's excellent thinking. Go right ahead, show me the full extent of your power."
Owen, with one hand gesture, made the map collapse and made the crystals form a dome instead, where his words would remain secret to any outsider. It was a small and controlled breach between time and space, far enough from Henir to not attract unwanted attraction, but good enough to make even the most skilled demon mage lose his vital mana before closing the rift.
It did not take more than a minute for Owen to speak in frozen time. A blink of an eye later, the same old scenery was back as if nothing had happened. Except for Barkat. He no longer had his armour and he was standing on the floor again. His eyes were wide like gold ED and he blinked a couple of times at Owen.
The demon opened his mouth for a brief second, his eyebrows furrowed. He looked down, tapping his foot a couple of times before he looked back at Owen, arms crossed, "Excuse me, but what in the Three fucking Torments were you on when you came up with that?"
Owen shrugged, "After reincarnating enough times, you start going for desperate measures."
Barkat passed his hand over his face, looking down before rubbing his temples, "By Sult, how many times did we fuck up before today, Owen?"
"None. Today is today."
The odd-eyed demon rolled his eyes, "You know what I mean! How many times have we met and went down the same scheme?"
"More than three hundred times," Owen responded with no life in his eyes.
"Three hun-" Barkat choked on air and coughed for a long while, "Holy Darkness...how do you cope with that?"
Owen laughed with less emotion than a machine, "I don't. Do you want to try my plan out or not?"
"Well," the demon rubbed his chin, "if we get Stirbargen on board, we might have a chance. Besides, nobody is going to expect a war fought on that front."
Owen looked at the red moon above with contempt. Of course, after two weeks of a full moon, there just had to be a red moon for the next three nights. That cursed Priestess and the Harmony festival just made everything worse for him. From the windowsill of his chambers, Owen emptied his glass of brandy in one long gulp and decided to head down for his usual meeting with the sorcerer.
As he was unpacking the same old dirty clothes, he felt sick at the thought of going down the same putrid streets again. They were bound to be a lot of living pieces of trash in the slums. The kind of trash that would probably set him off on a rampage. It was too early to get in the kingdom's list of most wanted criminals before his scheme with the sorcerer was settled.
Owen figured it was best to go down the main road without hiding his real identity. The albino looked at the almanac he kept on his bedside table. Statistically speaking, his destiny would not change much if people began to suspect him now or a day later. He still could go incognito, but he was not confident he could control himself in front of that indecent brat who supposedly guarded the gate of the slums. Besides, getting tied to a mass murder would just make things impossibly complicated for the immediate future of this cycle.
Owen sighed. It was pointless to try to save his life, but he hoped that this time, he would save Seris's life. It was the only thing that kept him going down the same loop time and time again.
He made his servants ready his Sanderian stallion, along with a map of Velder and Elrios, fifty Velderian Suns and five hundred ED. When asked, he demanded that nobody packed provisions for him.
Owen slid his bastard sword in its scabbard, tying it to his belt. Then, he took out his best black woollen coat and his wedding ring. He put the first in a haste, but the latter, he held it carefully in his hand. He contemplated for a minute the old, unique memories that were never to return, the single mistake he could never correct no matter how many cycles passed.
This was his last attempt at trying to get buried in the demon realm, far from the goddess' reach. Far from his curse. If he failed, he was not sure if he could keep refusing Henir's deal anymore. What difference would it make? He was being toyed with by a goddess, so, being the mindless tool of another god could not possibly be worse.
A light knock at his door took him out of his reverie. He quickly put the jewel on his ring finger out of habit, or perhaps out of nostalgia.
"State your business," he coldly ordered.
"My lord, your mount is ready." a butler's voice came from the other side of the door.
"Good. I'll leave immediately."
"Have a safe trip, my lord."
Owen walked to the door as soon as he heard the butler's steps fade away and went finally out of his mansion. The streets of his town were filled with lights and the scent of multiple desserts and other stands of food. It was just another Harmony Festival for the kingdom, with its dancers, music, bards, ale and laughter. He tried not to look at anything nor anyone. Just straight ahead. Of course, it was not easy. The crowd hindered his passage across the boulevards and even some alleys, but he was surprised how detached he felt from it all. It was as if he was merely watching a play. People who knew him made room for him and those who didn't, mostly children, whispered in awe at his mount or how they wanted to look as cool as him.
'You're not going to think like that for long, kids.'
He was near the main road towards the Eastern exit of Residential Area Three when a familiar, feminine voice called out his name.
'Stay away,' he scolded himself, 'go faster and stay away. Don't turn around, it's going to hurt you. You know this. You've been through this countless times already! You don't need this pain! Get away!'
Alas, his heart was still strong enough to go against his mind.
Owen stopped and looked to his right, seeing from the distance a beautiful green-eyed blonde waving at him, running towards him. He thought of another cycle when he would have smiled and waved back. Perhaps he would have kissed her. He had done so before when he did not fully understand his curse. He had taken her to the outskirts this very night to watch the stars and loved her as much as he could.
That vivid memory faded away when he glanced slightly up from where Seris was.
From his mount, Owen saw Raven looking all around for her. Those cursed golden eyes looked desperately all around them, saying the name of his one and only victim. Owen could never forget that night of the Harmony Festival. He had let Seris go on her own for just a few minutes. She had assured him it would only take her ten minutes to get the apple doughnuts they both loved. Ten minutes became an hour. Then, it became a day. Then, a week. Two weeks. Three. A month. He caught the golden-eyed killer by mere chance thirty-one days, five hours and twenty minutes after Seris had vanished. That night, Owen had to be knocked out by his men or else he would have killed Raven the moment he took a good look at the pestilent linen bag the drunk bastard dragged along.
Owen had killed Raven as many times as he had the chance once his curse settled in, but, each time, it only felt increasingly meaningless. He could never forgive the killer, nor the fate that had now tied them as "friends" for countless cycles. The Church had called this part of his curse poetic justice; he thought it was nothing but salt in a wound too deep to ever heal.
Seris rush finally came to a halt, she took a deep breath and offered him a polite smile, "I didn't think I'd see you out here, Owen. How have you been?"
Owen glanced down at her hand, noticing immediately the golden ring decorated with a blue sapphire. Long ago, it would have matched his. Seeing that brand new ring on her finger made him sick. But it was normal. He had always pushed her away, after all. This was the only possible result. Letting Seris marry that bastard always brought the least painful end for her, he knew it. He knew it, but the memories he alone carried made everything so much more depraved. He felt nauseous. Owen was certain it had been Raven who had proposed to her. Why would it have been any different?
"Of course he'd choose this time of the year," he mumbled, accidentally thinking out loud.
"Who is he?" the blonde asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Raven," he answered with a little too much venom in his voice. Luckily, Seris could not tell it apart from his usual tone, "The Harmony Festival is a very popular time to propose, now that I think about it."
"Oh?" Seris smirked at him until she glanced at his hand. Then, her smile became much more sincere, "Well, you also found your special someone to propose to, by the looks of it. Who is it?"
Owen remained quiet for a minute that seemed like an hour. Seris's smile was slowly dying out at each instant that passed. She was getting worried about him. It was moments like this when a wild, vain hope sometimes grew in his heart. What if he dropped the mask and just told her everything?
However, he already knew all too well what that foolishness would bring. It was better to just cut everything off before she got too close, "It's none of your concern."
The blonde crossed her arms, pouting at him, "Aw, come on! Is it a secret between Raven and you?"
Owen frowned for a second, then he hid back his wrath behind a blank expression, "No. I have made it clear. My private life is unimportant. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm in a rush."
He jabbed his stallion, ordering it to get as far as it could from the town.
Seris chuckled, shaking her head before yelling one last message for her friend, "Good luck on your date, Owen!"
Raven finally caught up with her, "Seris! Don't run off like that, I lost you in the crowd."
The blonde rested her head on her fiance's shoulder, taking his hand, "You worry too much, Raven. I'm not going to get abducted by some weirdo in this place. It's the Harmony Festival!"
"I know, but you can't ever be too careful," Raven looked around him, only seeing the main road and closed shops as far as the eye could see, "what did you come out here for anyway? It's just the main road."
"Oh, I saw Owen pass by, and I thought it'd be nice to say hi before he vanished."
Raven furrowed his eyebrows, "Owen? It can't be him. He hates the Harmony Festival. Too disgustingly happy for him, apparently."
"Yeah, he's not a party guy at all. But it seems the power of love is making him change. He was looking like he was out to impress his lady."
The amber-eyed mercenary looked at her, shocked, "What? What kind of woman would even go on a date with him? He has the emotional response of a wall!"
Seris chuckled, "Aw, don't be so mean, Raven. He's getting married, so we'll find out soon enough."
The couple went back to the main plaza where they were watching a group of travelling dancers.
"I already feel bad for the poor girl who's going to marry him," Raven muttered.
"It might work, Raven. If she made him go out today, then maybe she can change him for the better."
"I doubt it. Owen is one cold-hearted son of a bitch."
Seris gave him a tap on the shoulder, "Watch your language, Raven Cronwell!"
"Yes, mom," he lowered his voice, "I don't understand why you kept insisting on having him as a friend."
"Are you jelly~?"
Raven scoffed, "Me? Jealous of an ice cube? Never in a thousand years."
"Owen might be an ice cube to the core, but you're a hothead. And despite that, you've always gotten along. You trust each other an awful lot in battle. More than other generals."
"I guess. He's a genius tactician. It's scary how well he can read the enemy, and I respect that a lot. But he's a weird guy to be around outside the battlefield."
Seris smiled a bit sadly, "If you ask me, Owen seems like he's carrying a lot of…"
'grief,' she thought. But she doubted herself at the last second, no longer feeling confident to share her thoughts with Raven. It seemed to her it was not her place to try to tie down Owen's behaviour with that word. She had been wrong before, trying to get near him when he did not want to. What would she know about him if he never let anyone even see for more than a split second how he felt?
"A lot of what, Seris? Mommy issues?"
Raven's sudden comment made her dark thoughts fade away immediately, replaced by laughter, "By the El, Raven! That's so mean!"
Raven chuckled, "But it's funny because it's true."
Seris shook her head, still laughing with him. And yet, she briefly thought of slapping Raven, scream at him, and leave. But that anger was nothing but a fleeting thought that the magnificent conclusion to the dance and the claps of the crowd all around drowned into oblivion. Somehow, even that laughter was carrying sadness in the air. Something in the night breeze that swept the crowd as the dancers began another dance made her eyes itchy. She blinked a couple of times, trying to get the sensation away. To her surprise, two tears streamed down her cheeks. She swept the few tears away, feeling glad that Raven had not noticed anything.
She did not want to ruin this day for them with silly tears.
Owen walked into the same church with a leather bag hanging over his shoulder. He was greeted by Barkat, as usual. The odd-eyed sorcerer walked towards him. For the occasion, he had an emerald necklace around his neck. It was undoubtedly Elrian craft. No one in the present day would shape old Debrian runes out of fear of getting targeted by the Steel Crosses.
"Happy El Har-"
"Shut up. It's the worst time of the year."
The demon whistled, "Wow, did someone shit on your tea or what?"
"Stop asking pointless questions, and let's get down to business," Owen hissed, going up to the altar to open the map of Velder, "I have started to invest on the first part of the plan already," he pointed to an empty street corner, close enough to the Point of Interest to reach the tunnels, but far enough to not raise suspicions, "the building will be here. Cobo construction hired alchemists and mages to make the job faster. Give it a year and we'll have everything we need to get started."
Barkat closed in, looking over Owen's shoulder. The albino turned around to look at the alleged demonic monarch, "How about your side of the deal?"
The demon king took a deep breath, "Well, Stirbargen is on board with it, he found it amusing. But why are you as rabid as a shadow hound today?"
"It's nothing."
"Nah, it's written all over your face. You're my most useful ally here, and I want to help. Let me see..."
The clearest blue eye of Barkat shone brightly, but by the time Owen looked away, it was already too late. The magic of the sorcerer had already pierced into his thoughts. The cocky smile Barkat always harboured vanished.
"Well, shit. The hag is supposed to let you go if you collect Seris's soul completely, isn't she? If you tell your...former wife everything, it would bring her back, wouldn't it?"
"Telling her everything always made her demise worse. The only thing that brought fragments of her soul back to me was...doing to her what I hate Raven for. Directly or indirectly."
"By Sult, that's messed up…how close are you to get her back?"
He took a deep breath, sitting down and looking at his feet and clenched fists, "It wouldn't be a curse if I was remotely close to breaking it by now. Around my hundredth cycle, the Earth Priestess, Artea, pitied me enough to explain how my curse worked."
Owen looked up at the old painted glass above the altar, where Ishmael's image was still discernible, "Artea gave me a good analogy. Let's say you want to go to Hamel. And every day you can only cover half of the distance left between you and Hamel."
"Alright. Where's the catch?"
"The catch is that it's impossible. There's always half of the remaining distance left to travel. Even if it's just a fraction of an inch, half a grain of sand. You're never going to get to Hamel."
Barkat frowned, clenching his fists. He soon punched the stone column next to him, leaving a small crater, "That's the kind of bullshit that makes me hate that crystal bitch."
Owen chuckled joylessly, "I'll admit it's strange to see that you, of all people, mimic my old anger so perfectly. I still get angry, sad, but it's different. I can't express those emotions anymore without either going overboard or just… not feeling anything at all."
The sorcerer nodded gravely, "It's only natural when you're dealing with something that foul. The hag didn't even do such a thing to my family. And, objectively, they did worse than you."
"Maybe. But, at this point, it doesn't matter. I might as well become one of Henir's pawns and die as a monstrosity of his dimension."
"I wouldn't wish that on anyone, especially not on you. You've suffered enough."
"How can it possibly make my existence any worse?" Owen asked the sorcerer, his eyebrows furrowed.
Barkat muttered something in demonic. Then, a smirk came back on his face and he gave a strong tap over Owen's shoulder, almost making him fall forward, "Let me tell you something, Owen. We're gonna drink and party hard tonight. Let's drown all of this heavy talking with some good Daemon Licorice!"
The sorcerer went up in the air and flew behind dusty curtains next to the altar Owen had never noticed before. Not even five minutes passed before Barkat came flying back with a bottle in hand, two very small cups and a red candle. He left everything on the altar and used his power to lift one of the long seats. It floated mid-air, slowly approaching where they were.
Barkat glanced at him, "You better step aside, Owen."
Owen raised an eyebrow but did as the demon instructed. The old, wooden row of chairs fell with a deafening sound, lifting a cloud of dust on its wake. Once it settled down, Barkat was lighting the candle with his unnatural blue flames and put it in the middle of the table.
The knight glanced at Barkat, "What are you scheming?"
"I told you. A party."
'Candle-lit drinking party with a liquor I don't even know. In a creepy abandoned church. Not my kind of party by a long shot.'
"Come on," Barkat sat down at the edge of the table, nodding at Owen, "Sit down and wait a while. Stirbargen will join us any minute now."
"I see."
Owen did as the demon king asked, making sure to leave at least seven feet apart between him and Barkat, "Who's Stirbargen? One of your underlings?"
"Yeah, you could say that."
Barkat opened the bottle of Daemon Licorice and filled the cups only half-way through, sliding one down the altar into Owen's hands. The knight could smell the alcohol and the aroma of licorice. While he liked aromatic alcohols like Cointreau, Owen still hesitated to take a gulp of Daemon Licorice. Demons had always superior physical abilities, who was to say that their livers were not superhuman too?
"I brought the mildest one. For me, this barely qualifies as beer. But you're going to feel it like some nice, strong stuff." Barkat said as if he was still hearing Owen's every thought.
"Are you still using your powers on me, or did you just guess?" Owen asked before taking a small sip of his drink. It was cold, refreshing at first. But as soon as he swallowed, a mild burning remained in his throat. It was perfect. Just a little too perfect.
"I just figured you might be worried. To be honest, real Daemon would have sent you to another reincarnation immediately."
"Hmm," Owen nodded, taking another small sip of it, "well, it's fine alcohol, I'll give you that."
Barkat grinned, "Of course it is! Nobody can say no to some good Daemon Licorice once they've tasted it."
The sound of two pairs of heels made Owen glance to the side. Two shadows were approaching. One was certainly a tall demon woman and the other looked like a very flat-chested woman, smaller than the first. Owen was almost tempted to say the small woman was human, but he soon discerned one horn growing over her head.
"Oh, Stirbargen!" Barkat waved briefly at the two shadows, "what did you bring Karis for tonight?"
The two feminine shadows stepped into the moonlight and Owen barely had the time to gulp his second sip of Daemon before being overcome with a bad cough. He had not been looking at two demon women. No, it was a red-haired demon woman and a red-eyed demon man, both dressed too lightly for his taste. Especially the demon man. He had some kind of tight leather cloth shaped in an X, which barely covering his pecs. More specifically his nipples. The shorts, if they could be called that, were barely enough to cover what underwear was supposed to do instead. The fishnets and high-heel boots just completed an outfit he felt very uncomfortable looking at. It was a perfect uniform match to the woman's, but still.
The demon woman looked at her...partner? Underling? Owen was not sure anymore, nor was he too inclined to learn who was who.
"Watch and learn, my Lord," Karis muttered in demonic.
"I shall, Karis," the red-eyed demon knelt in front of Barkat and spoke in demonic, "your majesty, I brought Karis to learn the best techniques to proceed in our conquest of the human fortress of Velder," he smirked, "I must admit your plan is most amusing, but also very astute. I do not wish to sully your flawless path to victory with any unsightly defeats."
Barkat nodded, answering in modern Elrian, "I would expect no less from the king of the Crimson Cradle. You have done well. The Sethlangit's knowledge will be an invaluable asset for this plan."
"Indeed, my king," Stirbargen replied in the same language his king had used.
'Wait...don't tell me this is all for-'
Owen's thoughts were cut short by the red-haired demon's arm slowly sliding around his shoulders. The demonic woman not only had bat wings where ears should be, but she had some kind of spell all around her. It was surely a charm of some sort stemming from her orange-red eyes….or her other assets.
"My good sir," she began, looking genuinely worried at him, "do you feel unwell? Karis wants to help you," the demon woman cupped his face in her hands and whispered in his ear, "In. any. way. you. desire."
Owen was already feeling the room get hotter and he was not too sure if it was because of the demon woman or the Daemon. Perhaps it was both, "Uhm, you're...Karis, I assume."
Karis leaned a but back from him, displaying a playful smile, "Yes, my good sir. May I have the pleasure of knowing your name?"
"I'm...I'm Owen Felford."
"Owen Felford," Karis purred, "a very fine name for a warrior of your stature. Would you like Karis to pour you another drink?"
'Yes, but actually no. I don't like getting drunk.'
"Yes, of course, Karis."
Karis made the bottle fly into her hands and slowly refilled Owen's cup, "As you please, Lord Owen~"
While Owen's focus had drifted away from the other two other demons in the church, both Barkat and Stirbargen were intrigued to see how far Karis's natural charm would get to Owen. It was a direct measure of the effectiveness of the plan.
"So that man is Owen Felford. I see," Stirbargen began in his native dialect, summoning a flask of true Daemon into his hands before taking a long gulp from it, "Are you sure we can trust a human with this, your majesty?"
Barkat reached out for the flask in Barkat's hands and the Red-Eyed King gave his prized alcohol to him. The demon king took a small sip before answering his ally's question. "Trust me, he hates that goddess as much as we do, if not more."
The demon king handed back the flask to Stirbargen, who furrowed his eyebrows at his king's words, "I do not wish to be discourteous, your majesty, but I doubt any human would betray their realm. He may be plotting against us."
Barkat chuckled, "Take a good look at him, Stirbargen. He has the Eclipse curse on him."
The Red-Eye king's eyes widened. He turned towards Owen and used the power in his eyes to read the man's mana. The first thing that he found out was that the man was a powerful blood mage, perhaps even stronger than a lot of the demonic nobility. Stirbargen had to focus a lot of power to see it, but he saw exactly what his king had told him about. Around Owen's neck, a circle of dark, crystal blades dug into his mana, reaching down to his soul and kept it prisoner. However, by some miracle, none of the hundreds of blades had cut Owen's soul deeply.
"Your majesty, I now know you speak the truth, but," Stirbargen began, looking back at his king, "what could a human have done to deserve that punishment?"
"He went against the wishes of Ishmael's pawns," Barkat answered, "but I am not sure to what extent. That said, I don't know what has kept his soul from being annihilated after four hundred and five eclipses. If you ask me, he should have been an empty shell after fifty."
Stirbargen nodded, "It is very intriguing, your majesty," then, he smirked, "But that miracle explains quite well why his magic is on par with a lot of the nobles, if not higher. Ishmael could not have given us a better ally."
"Quite. Once this party is done, take more soldiers of the Sethlangit clan with you. Or from yours. Next time we will meet, it will be in Velder. The building for our operations is almost ready."
Stirbargen bowed slightly, "It shall be done as you command, your majesty."
"Oh, and one more thing," Barkat added, glancing at Karis, who was slowly loosening Owen's tie, "that is going too far. We're going to build a tavern, Stirbargen, not a whorehouse."
"What's the difference, your majesty?"
"Well, you see, you may use a charm spell to make the customers at ease but, the employees of the tavern don't fornicate with the customers," the demon king hissed, grabbing both Karis's and Owen's attention. The heir of the Sethlangit clan sighed, backing away from Owen completely. She sat on the edge of the altar, rolling her eyes before combing her pigtails back.
"Such a party pooper," she muttered in demonic.
"I heard that, Karis," Barkat replied in Elrian. He summoned a cup for her and made it float until it was within Karis's reach. She poured some of the milder Daemon Licorice in it until her glass was full.
The demon king raised his cup with a grin, "Hey, Owen, let's raise a toast. What do we drink to?"
Owen looked down, trying to think about something to celebrate about. There was not much, truthfully, today had been a mediocre day at best, but there had to be something. With some difficulty, he stood up and raised his cup. He cleared his throat and announced as solemnly as he could, "Down with Bitchmael!"
The other three demons looked at him, surprised, for a couple of seconds before chuckling.
"Oh, sweet Owen," Karis said, raising her cup with a smirk, "that is something I would drink to every day."
"Definitely," Stirbargen chimed in, raising his flask.
"Down with Bitchmael," Barkat repeated, "Cheers."
Almost two years had passed since that fateful and strange party night. Truth be told, Owen was not so sure how to feel about his latest plan anymore. Some things had advanced for the better, while others had moved on too quickly and unpredictably.
Owen walked down the streets of the heart of Residential Area One, trying to take care he was not seen by any familiar faces. He had his cloak on him, but the sun was still setting over the horizon. It was risky to even get near the demons he was going to meet. But there was not much he could do about it. Neither Karis, Stirbargen nor the "troops" they had assembled wanted to raise any suspicions as nightly visitors. Barkat could, on the other hand, come and go as he pleased. As long as there was no full moon nor red moon in the sky. But that much was a given considering Barkat's former position within the Elrian Kingdom.
Owen hoped it was nothing serious, but the King himself had made every entrance to Velder much more heavily guarded at night. That included a priest or two, and they would undoubtedly detect that the caravans of travelling dancers Karis had brought from "Sander" had a lot more to hide.
The Velderian tactician looked around him, making sure he was not being tailed. He would have been much more comfortable using his magic, but there was no telling where a Steel Cross might be hiding. He was considerably close to the Great Cathedral, after all. Owen stepped into a narrow alley and heard Karis's heels behind him. She was wearing a sober, but elegant white dress, looking no different from a normal noble. She carried wild herbs and flowers in a basket, but Owen already knew it was something else entirely. Stirbargen's illusion magic was very powerful, not because of what it could do, but because it was virtually undetectable unless one knew exactly what to look for.
He turned around with a heavy sigh, "Good evening, Karis."
She walked calmly towards him, "Hello there, dear Owen. You don't seem all that happy to see me today. Why is that?"
"Because I just want to get calmly to my restaurant. For once."
The demoness in disguise took his hand and leaned over his shoulder, "Are you saying my company distresses you, sweetheart?"
'I don't like clingy women like you, in all honesty.'
He wanted to say his thoughts out loud, but he feared that saying it so crudely would play against him in the days to come. Technically, there is no way he could have foreseen that serving Daemon Licorice to Karis in front of her two kings would equate to asking for her hand in marriage. Still, he had hoped that at least Barkat would not have given his blessing so eagerly. Plus, he had no idea about Stirbargen's illusion magic until that night, where that red-eyed demon transformed the gloomy church transform into a suitable place for an actual ceremony.
From then on, his personal life had spiralled out of control. Every day had some kind of hectic surprise that Owen was no longer used to after countless, carefully planned and uneventful everyday lives he had kept for most of his reincarnations.
Karis was objectively a good wife, good-looking, intelligent, and...sometimes just a little too thoughtful. The bastard sword she had ordered other demons forge for him was incredibly powerful, tailor-made for a blood mage. But that was precisely the issue: using taboo magic would bring the entire Inquisition force upon them. She could not have known it at the time, but the fact she had given him three other artifacts as powerful as the first made him think it was intentional. And it certainly was. To Karis, he was wasting his potential to rule over Elrios as the fifth Demon King he was allegedly destined to become.
She seldom kept quiet about her vision of his future as some kind of supreme overlord of mankind when they were alone. Owen did not mind helping the demons, but becoming the evil king was one step too many into villainy.
The only good thing about getting married not even two hours after he had met his bride was that it was the perfect excuse to get buried in the demon realm. As long as he made sure Seris survived, Owen did not care if he became the fifth Demon King or not.
The plan was almost done, but there were still a lot of uncertainties. Owen knew that he was walking down a brand-new path now. He did not know what the consequences of any actions he took from now on were. That was mostly why he kept being a mostly good husband to Karis. Women who were as clingy as she was could take any kind of rejection very harshly.
"It's not distress...dear," he forced himself to say. He was thankful for his perfect acting skills, "it's just such a pleasant routine that I often lose track of the precious time that could be used on the future of the tavern."
He began to walk again, muttering a spell to keep his mind from falling to Karis's charms again, if she still could even try anything on him. She happily followed along, oblivious to his mild annoyance.
"Oh, I'm sure we could take the whole evening to ourselves just for today, dear," she mused, curling a lock of her hair around her finger, "I'm sure the other associates won't miss you if you take a break. How about it? I've always wanted to see your mansion, for once."
Owen frowned, "Karis, that's not important right-" he left to get back into the main boulevard and bumped into a town guard, "my apologies."
As if the evening could not get any worse, Owen soon recognized who was the guard: Seris.
"It's alright, sir….Owen?"
'Ah, fuck.'
Karis glared at Seris, holding Owen's hand more tightly. The knight turned towards his wife, "Ow!"
The red-haired demon apologized, giving him a sheepish smile as she loosened her grip, "I'm sorry, my dear."
"It's...fine, Karis."
Seris's green eyes brightened with a smile, "Dear? Wait...Owen, is she your wife?"
Karis grinned from ear to ear, "Yes, I am~ Did my sweet Owen tell you about me?"
The two women started talking excitedly, giggling now and then, but Owen had already tuned out their conversation. Not only did he marry a succubus by mistake, but said succubus was now happily talking nonsense to the woman who had been his real wife. He absentmindedly nodded at some questions, hoping he would not remain here for too long.
"Ah, you two really suit each other! I'm happy you found someone as wonderful as Karis, Owen!"
"Yes, I'm very lucky," he managed to say with a very tiny smile. Had Seris known him better, she would have understood that his smile was a 'may-the-El-have-mercy-on-my-soul' kind of smile.
"Oh, was that a smile? You really are changing for the better, Owen."
The bells of the cathedral rang seven times, startling Seris, "I need to get going now. Don't forget to invite Raven and me for the naming ceremony, Owen! " she said before dashing away.
'The. WHAT?!'
Owen looked at Karis, his eyes open like gold ED, "Karis, you lied to Seris just now, didn't you?"
Karis looked away, making Owen's apprehension grow even more.
"Karis, dear. You lied to Seris, right? We can't have any kids because we're too different, right?"
"It's not because you're a human and I'm not that it can't happen," she finally answered with a pout, "A woman can dream."
Owen sighed, rubbing his temples, 'I'm not sure I like your dreams, Karis.'
The two continued their way to the tavern where Barkat and Stirbargen were already preparing the finishing touches before the grand opening. Owen stared at the big, wooden sign where the name of the tavern was carefully engraved: The Archangel - Restaurant and Tavern.
It was a very bold name, considering the nature of the establishment was...less than angelic. But that was precisely the goal. Owen led Karis to the side of the building and they entered through the back door. Inside, more than a dozen disguised incubi, all dressed with cotton tank tops where the name of the place was somehow inked on it with demonic magic and very short shorts, but the uniform was already a huge improvement over Karis's original concept.
Stirbargen peeked at the back entrance from the second floor and flew down to meet the owner of the place, "Oh, we were waiting for you, Owen!"
The red-eyed king wore more or less the same uniform as the rest of the demon employees, except for a small bow tie around his neck and a small badge that read 'Tyr, femboy manager'.
Owen looked around him, wondering if, after all this time, he had simply gone insane and this was his one and only moment of clarity.
"We...could have met at my place, you know?" the knight finally said.
Stirbargen tilted his head, "But why? I like this place better. Besides, we've been busy all day, every day preparing for tomorrow!"
The red-eyed king crossed his arms, "I practically live here."
"I'm just saying…" Owen continued, "that maybe, just maybe, we need to stop meeting like this. It's...a bit hectic."
"But that's the whole reason why we built this place, isn't it?" Karis said, "having a boring, dull meeting in some quiet place would kill anyone with boredom. I've never had this much fun in centuries. And it's all thanks to your genius, dear."
Stirbargen chuckled, "Well, see you in a few, lovebirds. Down with Bitchmael!"
Owen sighed, knowing already anything he could say was a lost cause. He had done too much to get this insanity working and he would make it work as best as he could. He would make every man and woman in Velder turn their back from the Church and Ishmael and embrace this madness he had created.
"Down with Bitchmael indeed," Owen muttered.
The Airship the Black Crow had flown from Altera all night long. Its crew and its visitors were the last hope Elrios had to fight back against the biggest wave of apostasy in recorded history that had taken a solid grasp all across southern Lurensia.
Inside the captain's study, the El Search Party was reviewing their plans to retake Velder with Raven Cronwell and his wife, Seris. Those two were the leaders of the secret resistance who had fled from Velder after it had fallen astray from Ishmael's light. Ainchase, the priest who had taken the title of Arme Thaumaturgy, looked at the two rebels.
"There is one thing I still can't understand," he began, "How is it that you know better the traitor than the origin of the chaos he created?"
"He was our friend," Seris gravely said, "I don't understand either. He was starting to become a better person and then, out of the blue, he just...goes to the dark side."
"Taking him out won't be an easy task," Raven continued, "even if we can count on you, Ain, to pinpoint the origin of the corruption, Owen is a very astute man. I've never won against him in tactical combat. Never. He never lets anyone know what he's thinking about either. Not even a hint of emotion. He just...puts his genius into use, like a Nasod."
Eve frowned, and Seris gave a small nudge to her husband.
"No offence," the black-haired man added.
"I do not like being compared with your evil ally, Raven Cronwell. But I accept your apology."
Elsword, the Infinity Sword, glanced at Conwell. The living weapon warned him about Owen. The way he acted and predicted the enemy's tactics were not natural, "I got a feeling, after hearing you talk at length about his tactics and all, that he might be someone very, very powerful. Is he...perhaps a mage?"
Conwell had warned him to ask if he was a demon, but Elsword did not want to be rude. Asking something like that to someone's lifetime friends was far too discourteous. It was not something he could just ask the people who had helped them liberate Altera and Feita from the rogue Nasods.
"Not that we know of, no," Seris said, shaking her head.
"It wouldn't be all that strange if he was hiding it. Perhaps he is talented with some taboo magic: shadow magic, blood magic, necromancy or the El knows what else."
The Elemental master furrowed her eyebrows, "Did Owen, by any chance, have any jewelry with unnaturally red gems? Like, a red emerald or a red sapphire, for example."
"We…" Seris trailed off, looking at her husband with her eyebrows furrowed, but he only met her gaze for a while before shaking his head. Seris swore she had seen something like that once, but she was not sure, "We don't think so."
Aisha shrugged, "Well, at least that discards the possibility that he's a blood mage. Because that would have been too troublesome to deal with."
Ainchase scoffed, "Even if he was, he would not be a master by a long shot. A human lifespan is too short to even grasp the basics. It won't be long until he bows to Ishmael's might"
"And...how do you know what, Ain?" Rena, the Grand Archer, asked.
"I would not be a priest if-"
An alarm blared all around them. Raven summoned a holographic screen with a simple hand gesture. The captain of the Black Crow, Lento, saluted Raven and the alarm stopped.
"What gives this emergency transmission, Lento?"
"My apologies, sir. But it seems there is some kind of barrier between us and the epicentre. The Black Crow can't go any further. But it seems you may proceed on foot."
"Can we still track the movement inside the barrier?"
"Yes sir. Our sensors detect that there is still a mostly civilian population in the area. I suppose they are hostages."
Raven frowned, "Roger that."
Lento saluted his superior one last time and the screen vanished. Raven sighed, "I don't like putting all the eggs in one basket. So, one team of three goes and the rest will stay behind, monitoring the situation for any signs of danger. No one goes in without comms, understood?"
The El Search Party nodded. Ainchase was the first to leave the room without a word. Elsword raised an eyebrow, "Uhh, Ain? Where are you going?"
"Isn't it obvious, Elsword?" he said, using his magic to make a bible and the sacred cross of his goddess appear within his hands, "I'm going to evangelize this town and they're going to like it, or else."
Rena sighed, "Elsword, you and I better go with him. I don't want him to go on a...Crusade again."
Aisha grimaced, "Yeah, it was strange hearing him yell Ishmael Vult at the atheist guild of Feita..."
"Incorrect, Aisha. It was a purposeful action that hindered the peace agreement between my people and yours," Eve added, "Your assessment is correct, Rena. You two should watch over Ain."
The boy and the elven archer simply nodded and dashed away, trying their best to catch up with Ain. They took a small ship to land in Velder's outskirts and headed into the town. There were no guards at any gate, but besides that, the life in the slums was as normal as anyone could expect from any town of Velder's size.
Elsword cocked an eyebrow, "well, for a town supposedly abandoned by the goddess, it looks very normal."
"Don't be a fool, Elsword. There's an unholy spell lingering over most of the souls in this place. There might be heretics every now and then, but an entire town that turns its back from the goddess? That's unthinkable. Some dark magic is at play here."
Rena nodded, "We can't let our guard down, but-"
Ainchase was already pulling out a projection weapon, ready to throw it at a woman who was passing by, dragging her feet as if she would collapse at any moment,
"AIN! NO!" Rena yelled.
The priest dismantled his attack and clicked his tongue, "This is the easiest way to purify this evil, elf."
"Do that to the entity responsible for this barrier and it'll be much faster," the elven archer continued.
"That's a good point, elven archer. I shall show restraint until we reach the source. Follow my lead."
The priest dashed through the streets as if he had known it his whole life. The El was still in the town, but something was strange about its energy. It was as if the priestess herself had fled the town.
'Weak humans,' the angel thought, 'They forgot that when evil is circling them, they must fight a holy Crusade and not simply run away.'
The root of Velder's apostasy was just a street corner away from him, he could feel it. He leapt out of the alley, he summoned two projection weapons to fight whoever Owen Felford was.
"The power of Ishmael compels….you…" he said, losing his entire motivation to go on a crusade the more he looked at the establishment in front of him.
The stares the other guests were giving him were not helping at all. Ainchase fell completely silent out of shock. He barely felt anything when Elsword and Rena bumped onto him. He was simply appalled at the enormous gall of whoever owned that restaurant.
And whoever had given such uniforms to the employees. And whoever had put the advertisements outside.
Everything about this was incredibly wrong.
"Hey, Ain, what's-" Elsword began, trying to get a better look at what laid ahead. But just when he caught the glimpse of the building in front of him, Rena immediately covered his eyes, "H-hey, Rena! What is it?! Let me see it! We're on a mission!"
A red-eyed employee walked towards them, offering them the menu. His bowtie and badge made his uniform unique among the rest of the employees who were guiding others in.
"Welcome to the Archangel, dear travellers. My name is Tyr. Tonight, we offer a special on our rabbit ragout when you also buy a bottle of our finest rosé. perhaps you and the beautiful elf next to you wish to come in? If you want, we can make some room for the little boy on the second floor."
"I'm sixteen! Rena, why are covering my eyes?! Our mission depends on this!"
"W-we'll pass, uhm, Tyr," the elven archer said, dragging both Elsword and Ain away as she sprinted away, "Have a nice evening!"